


I've Been Waiting for You

by Notsyrups



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mentions of past abuse, Pregnancy, Sansa is pregnant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notsyrups/pseuds/Notsyrups
Summary: Sansa escapes with Theon to Castle Black, but this time she is pregnant with Ramsay's baby.Chose the graphic depiction of violence bc of Ramsay's death, but it isn't actually that graphic lmaoStory will be snippets of the canon story with the added pregnancy thrown in. If the idea of Sansa having Ramsay's baby makes you upset, please do not read this. It isn't a baby born of love, but survival.





	I've Been Waiting for You

**Author's Note:**

> I have a love of fics that have Sansa with a child of her own. Surviving the horrors she faced is amazing itself, but the idea of going through that pregnant/with a kid makes is more amazing to me.  
> This is a set-up chapter kind of, and I'm experimenting with writing styles. This chapter is blurbs of time passing, but next chapter will have more to do with the pregnancy and birthing(maybe).
> 
> But, this is a Jonsa fic, so keep that in mind.

I’ve Been Waiting for You

“I’m pregnant,” it’s been less than an hour since she’s arrived at Castle Black. Less than thirty since Jon had taken her to his chambers, held her while they sobbed together for what felt like eternity. Less than ten since he had sat beside her at the hearth, regaling their stories to each other. He had let her go first, and she wished to start with Ramsay, since there was no doubt in her mind, he would find her.

Jon let out a breath Sansa did not know he was holding. She looked at him through her eyelashes, not turning her head towards him. She was not ashamed of the babe inside her, but of the acts it took to get there. “Pregnant?”

She breathes in audibly, giving a small nod. “Not very far, just… long enough for me to know.” She fidgets with the cup of ale she’s holding, rubbing a thumb along the bottom brim. Her moonblood was never the most consistent thing in her life, with all the stress she was under. But after the smell of lemon cakes became nauseating to her, she figured a trip to the Maester was in order.

The poor Maester had offered her some herbs to rid herself of the child, knowing what Ramsay would do to the babe once it was born, what he’d do to her. She had refused politely, and quickly excused herself to grab Theon and leave Winterfell or die trying.

Sitting here now, Sansa can hardly believe they had made it. She had found Brienne, who, outside of Jon, is the only other person who knows about the pregnancy. Jon takes her hand and squeezes it gently. It pulls her out of her mind, and she gives him a small smile. It is not pity in his eyes, no, it’s understanding.

She takes a deep breath and wishes Jon to talk. “Could you tell me how you’ve fared these years?” He nods, and jumps in to his tale, starting with giving Needle to Arya. The whole time, never letting go of her hand.

* * *

 

 

Weeks go by, and they are finally ready to march upon Winterfell. The night before they go, Jon is with Sansa again. Her stomach has swollen some, and Sansa’s feet ache. Sansa’s feet are in Jon’s lap, where he massages them as they talk about the days of their youth. They talk about their siblings lost, about Robb and Arya mainly. They talk about Rickon’s small babble and how he used to suck on his teething toys, slobber all over his face. Jon knows that Rickon is most likely lost to them as well, but he can’t bring himself to talk about it. Neither can Sansa.

Sansa feels a small stir in her womb, and lunges forward to grab Jon’s wrist with one hand while the other stayed on her stomach. “Jon!” She yanks him over to her, and as soon as Jon’s fingertips touch her belly, the stir is gone. But they’re staring at each other with the widest grins, and a shock goes through Sansa head-to-toe.

Sansa falls asleep after a few hours, and Ghost stays at the end of her bed while Jon retreated to his own tent. On his way back, Jon meets with Tormund and Davos, trying to secure a backup plan in case Jon were to fall.

 

* * *

 

Jon is beating Ramsay senseless when Sansa walks up beside them. She had draped her cloak around her loosely, hiding her belly from Ramsay. She stares at the two of them, and when Ramsay’s head lolls to the side, she does not look away from his stare.

When Ramsay smiles, blood squeezing from between broken teeth, Jon’s line of vision follows. He sees her standing there, and although he would love nothing more than to kill this monster, he knows it is not his place. His eyes flicker to Sansa’s middle, then back up to her icy stare. He slowly stands up and backs away, patting Tormund on the shoulder as he passes by. He spits out blood of his own to the ground and says, “take him.”

A hot bath later, Jon is in the courtyard with some of the Knights of the Vale, thanking them for coming in. They all want to see Sansa and explain to him how brave it was for her to reach out to Lord Baelish in her time of need. Jon sets his jaw and gives a tight-lipped smile. Of course, it was Littlefinger.

A few men bring Rickon’s body up to Jon. He looks over the boy, and his heart sinks. He could have had a future, a family of his own as Lord of Winterfell. But like the rest of his siblings, it had been taken away by monsters who wanted power and little else.

Sansa walks slowly and with purpose towards the two of them. Her eyes never daring to dip to the cot Rickon lay. She has her emotionless mask on, Jon notices. His heart pains for her too, her innocence stripped from her so young, and now she must be strong not only for herself but for the babe who will assuredly never be his father. “Where is he?” is all she says, and Jon looks away, towards the kennels. Sansa purses her lips, a small huff escaping her. She does not mean to laugh, not truly. She flips her cloak away from her feet and starts walking. Jon lays a gentle hand on her arm, stilling her.

“Sansa…” he pleads. He does not know for what, but the look he casts her way nearly makes her falter. Nearly.

 

* * *

 

Ramsay called her bluff, and she suddenly wishes he had died a slower death.

“ _Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear.” She says to him, her nose pointed up at him. A smile ghosting across her lips._

_“No, I will live on in you, forever.” Her hand instinctively flew to her abdomen, and he laughs loudly. “I knew it. My son will definitely rise in this world, and he will be the death of you.”_

_“Funny, Ramsay. Without this babe I probably wouldn’t have left._ My son _is the death of you..” She sets the dogs upon him then._

She shivers when she thinks back on the sounds of tearing flesh, the squishing of Ramsay’s muscles underneath the sharp teeth of his mutts. She feels poorly about the dogs, wishing she could find some semblance of Lady in them. But knows that they would turn on her in an instant through no fault of their own.

Abused dogs tend to bite.


End file.
